


Giving Up The Ghost

by Useless19



Series: Getting Over It [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useless19/pseuds/Useless19
Summary: Knock Out knew what he liked: there was something about big, submissive bots that made his motor rev in all the right ways. Sadly, since Breakdown's demise, those were of short supply on board theNemesis.





	Giving Up The Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place shortly after _The Human Factor_

It was a sure sign that it had been a good night when you woke up in a stranger’s berth with your panels half open and aching all over.

On the other servo, it was a sure sign that it had been a _terrible_ night when you realised it was _Megatron’s_ berth you were lying prone in.

Knock Out shot upright, clenching his jaw as his tanks tried to purge. The last thing he wanted was to have to clean up his own regurgitated fuel while still dealing with the lingering remains of his overcharged state addling his processor.

And purging was never good for his finish. _Urgh_.

It took getting to his feet for Knock Out to realise he wasn’t aching _all_ over. There were telling scratches on his paint, most clearly around his hips, but no internal signs that he’d had any kind of fragging last night.

“Now that’s a surprise,” he muttered to himself.

If he could just get back to the medbay without anyone noticing, then he could buff everything out and no one would be any wiser. And he wouldn’t lose his place as the best looking Decepticon on the _Nemesis_.

Fortunately, the doors to Megatron’s quarters could be opened from the inside without a code.

Unfortunately, Knock Out had never memorised the crew schedule beyond his own shifts and Breakdown's. There was a pair of Vehicons patrolling the corridor immediately outside.

They looked at Knock Out, at Megatron's door, then at each other.

“Don’t just stand there,” Knock Out said sharply, drawing their gaze again, “accompany me to the medbay at once.”

The Vehicons snapped to attention and fell into behind Knock Out. Both were trying to hang back and make the other one the more acceptable target for an officer’s temper, while also not taking too long and risking being seen as the liability. It was a dance Knock Out had seen plenty of times before, usually whenever Starscream was shouting orders and stalking around.

Starscream. That was another mech Knock Out was unlikely to ever see again. It was nice to not be nagged at constantly, but it was a shame not to be able to admire such a nice finish. It wasn’t like anyone else on the _Nemesis_ tried to keep up appearances — if Megatron had ever even _seen_ the inside of a tin of polish, Knock Out would eat his buffer — and the rank and file took their cues from their leader and walked around without caring about flaking paint and scratches.

Knock Out had to force down a shudder at the thought. _His_ paint was kept to a high gloss and it would stay that way.

His musings came to a screeching halt when he turned into a new corridor and nearly walked straight into Megatron. The Vehicons gave hasty salutes.

“My liege,” Knock Out said.

“Knock Out.”

No obvious tone to tell Knock Out what mood he was in. Knock Out braced himself and affected his usual, blasé air.

“I was going to put some organisation into the medbay. Unless my services are required elsewhere?”

“Soundwave is still decrypting the Iacon database, there are no new coordinates yet.” Megatron waved a servo at the Vehicons behind Knock Out. “Dismissed.”

They scuttled off, eager to be out of the way no doubt, leaving Knock Out and Megatron alone. Knock Out didn't want to think what the rumour mill would be churning out now, it was bad enough he’d been caught exiting Megatron’s rooms covered in scratches.

“Knock Out,” Megatron said, “I trust you have recovered from your… excesses?”

“About last night,” Knock Out said. “I don’t quite remember —”

“I suggest in future that you don’t get overcharged to the point of passing out mid-proposition,” Megatron said, amused.

“Ah, yes, Lord Megatron,” Knock Out said. Well, that explained a few things. Fragging an unconscious mech was no fun. “I’ll endeavour to be more careful in future.”

Megatron turned away, a clear dismissal. Knock Out took the opportunity to flee to the relative safety of the medbay.

No, not flee. He walked at a perfectly reasonable rate.

What had he been thinking? Propositioning _Lord Megatron?_

Knock Out knew what he liked and that wasn't the kind of bot that successfully ruled the Decepticons. Okay, Megatron might fit Knock Out's size tastes — maybe a little too well if he was honest with himself — but he was hardly going to let Knock Out take the lead in any sort of encounter between them.

It was a bad idea from start to finish and it was never going to happen.

* * *

 

It hadn’t been anything important or meaningful, but one minute Knock Out was sorting the medbay inventory — organised by how helpful each item was to maintaining a perfect finish — and the next he was hunched over on the floor, vents gasping for air.

The medbay doors swished open and Knock Out threw the closest thing at hand at whoever had darkened his doorstep. Swift footsteps clanked back out and the doors closed again, leaving him in peace.

It couldn’t have been _that_ important if they could still walk.

Breakdown would have had something to say about that. He was always good for being the reassuring bedside manner while Knock Out could focus on the important parts of being a medic: like actually _fixing_ things.

But Breakdown was gone and Knock Out couldn’t stop the reduced venting cycle he was stuck in. It started back up whenever memory fragments of Breakdown slid into his processor and now he couldn’t _not_ think of Breakdown because the damned cycle had gotten itself linked to the memories.

Knock Out had mourned Breakdown. He _had_. Casualties were part of standard warfare, and if you looked at it that way, it was a miracle it had taken so long for Breakdown to go offline.

But that had been before Cylas shown up, puppeteering Breakdown’s form and _smiling_ like it wasn’t wrong in every way.

He moved wrong. He sounded wrong. It was _wrong_.

Decepticons had done some terrible things in the past few thousand years of war, but nothing like that. Not even rumours of Shockwave’s more unethical experiments had gone that far.

The doors swished open, jolting Knock Out out of his venting cycle.

“What part of — Lord Megatron!” Knock Out hastily put down the tin of wax he’d been about to lob at the intruder. “What brings you to my medbay?”

Megatron stepped inside silently, taking in the state of the cupboard inventory, the mess of empty cubes that had once held high-grade, and Knock Out’s face. Knock Out realised there was probably still wiper fluid traces there. How mortifying.

“There was an Autobot raid on one of our energon mines,” Megatron said abruptly, as Knock Out hastily scrubbed the streaks off his face. “We have injured. They are _still_ injured.”

“I’ll get right on that, my liege.”

“Will you?” Megatron took a step closer, bringing him into Knock Out’s space.

Knock Out had to look up to keep optic contact and then had to squash the unprofessional thought of ‘mmm, he’s _big_ ’. He really needed to have a good couple of overloads if it took so little high-grade to make his processor go in unwanted directions.

“I hadn’t been informed of the raid,” Knock Out said carefully, “I was taking inventory. If there are Decepticons in need of my services, I’ll get to work right away.”

Megatron caught Knock Out before he could sidestep, placing a heavy servo on Knock Out’s pauldron.

“You have had time to mourn,” Megatron said.

“Yes, my liege.”

“I trust you revenged yourself adequately?”

Knock Out smiled. He could still hear the human’s screams and feel the bite of his stolen body under his sawblade. And there was still _so much_ to do.

“Yes, Lord Megatron. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Then why… this?” Megatron waved a clawed servo at the empty cubes of high-grade stacked on Knock Out’s workbench.

“Just something to help take the edge off,” Knock Out said, smile slipping off his face. “Not during working hours of course. And no more propositioning anyone.”

Well, okay, there had been a few sips while Knock Out was scheduled on duty, but they barely got him tipsy so they didn't count. And not offering a quick frag to anyone was easy, with the lack of Decepticons that fit his tastes. There was Dreadwing, but Knock Out barely knew him and he didn’t appear to have a sense of humour, which would undoubtedly lead to interface getting awkward.

And there was the mech standing before him, of course, but Knock Out had managed to avoid getting so overcharged as to try _that_ again.

“Hmm.” There was a wealth of meaning behind the noise that Knock Out couldn't decipher for the spark of him.

“It was rather nightmarish,” Knock Out volunteered, “seeing Breakdown puppeteered by a human like that. The high-grade is good at letting me forget. It’s not like anyone else truly understands what it was like.”

“ _I_ know what it’s like,” Megatron said.

Knock Out snorted in disbelief, regretting the noise when Megatron fixed him with a glare. Uh oh, time to play nice.

“You do, my liege?” Knock Out did his best to sound interested and attentive. “The state of our ex-commander after a thoroughly deserved scrapping isn’t quite what I meant.”

Megatron's intake stalled.

“You think I — _Starscream?!_ ”

That last sip of high-grade really had been a bad idea.

“I apologise, Lord Megatron,” Knock Out said quickly, cringing away and wishing he'd put the medical slab between him and Megatron.

It probably wouldn't do much good, given the length of Megatron's reach, but Knock Out could do zero-to-sixty in less than four and a half seconds, so every little counted.

Megatron looked close to back-handing Knock Out across the room, but vented deeply and precisely, and got ahold of his temper. Obviously, he’d remembered that Knock Out was too valuable to disassemble.

Will wonders never cease? Knock Out kept his mouth firmly shut to stop him putting his wheels in it further and waited for Megatron to talk.

“Starscream,” Megatron said again, voice heavy with disgust. “No, someone much more valuable than _Starscream_.”

Knock Out had a feeling he was going to be paying for that comment for a long time.

“Orion Pax was dedicated to the Decepticon cause, and then he was reformatted into Optimus Prime,” Megatron said bitterly.

Oh, yes. Knock Out had seen the way Megatron's gaze had lingered on their temporary guest. There had been bets placed; Knock Out had lost a few shanix himself.

“This is your final warning,” Megatron said, striding toward the door, obviously done with sharing for one day, “Breakdown is gone and, if your skills decline, you will be too.”

“Understood, Lord Megatron.”

Knockout waited until Megatron had stomped off down the corridor and out of view before ex-venting and slumping against the medical slab in relief.

Thank the Allspark he was the only Decepticon medic around.

The medbay doors hadn’t closed. Knock Out stuck his head out to find a queue of injured Vehicons waiting. They were fidgeting. A few toward the back were gambling.

“Well? Come in,” Knock Out said.

The Vehicon at the front of the line looked back at the others and was shoved in by the one behind him. He was nursing an energon-messy gash down his back and missing his left hand entirely.

“On the table.” Knock Out pulled out his welder. “Feel free to scream if this hurts.”

The monotony of standard medical work washed over Knock Out. Weld this line, replace that part, pipe in twenty litres of energon there, and so on. It left Knock Out’s mind free to wander.

Roleplay hadn’t been unfamiliar in Knock Out and Breakdown’s interface life. On the rare occasion that Knock Out was happy for Breakdown to take the lead, they’d even gone as far as pretending to be Starscream and Megatron — Knock Out would swear by the Allspark that Soundwave always avoided him for a week whenever that happened, which led to questions he never wanted to know the answers to. Exhibitionism was fine in Knock Out’s book, but it lost some of its appeal when there was a chance your unwilling voyeur might tattle and get you offlined.

So, yes, Knock Out had _thought_ about clanging Megatron before — really, what warm-oiled Decepticon _hadn’t?_ — but it wasn’t a need, barely even a want. Just a passing fancy that was being pushed to the forefront of his processor far too much right now.

Obviously, he was still slightly overcharged, missing Breakdown, and Megatron’s unusual attempts at being nice were messing with him.

Another cube would be perfect right now.

Knock Out picked one up. The high concentrate glowed fluorescent, so blue it was nearly white. It would be so easy to drain the entire thing and forget. It didn’t matter that he was only halfway through treating the Vehicons, no one cared about them.

 _Breakdown cared_ , his processor reminded him nastily. The threat of falling back into the short venting cycle loomed.

“No one _still alive_ cares,” Knock Out said aloud, hoping that would be enough to shut up his processor and let him have a drink in peace.

It wasn’t. He threw the cube back into the unsorted pile with a huff.

It was probably for the best. If he messed up on a Vehicon now, there was every chance Megatron would stomp back in and shout some more. And if Knock Out was so overcharged he was botching surgeries then he’d no doubt be overcharged enough to try putting the moves on their leader again and end up thrown out the airlock.

No, best to keep a clear processor and a steady servo.

“I haven’t got all day,” Knock Out called, and the next Vehicon shuffled in warily.

He was missing half his leg. Vertically. Knock Out transformed out his sawblades in preparation for an amputation.

 _Good_. Slicing something open always improved his mood.

* * *

 

It was a week later, after a tussle with some Autobots over another relic, that Knock Out found himself alone with Megatron again. Granted it was because Megatron needed his gyros recalibrated after standing too close to an energon explosion, but as Knock Out put down his tools, all his less than professional thoughts slid gleefully right back into his processor.

Megatron was big, just the way Knock Out liked, and Knock Out _missed_ taking a good spike. Best to get it over and done with so he could stop thinking about it.

Getting some action might even improve Megatron's mood too. The rest of the Decepticons could thank Knock Out later.

“Lord Megatron.” Knock Out _accidentally_ stumbled and caught himself with a splayed servo on Megatron's chest plating.

And Megatron steadied him with a servo to the waist. Perfect.

“I've been thinking…” Knock Out pressed his digits down against Megatron’s abdominal plating with clear intent, “I've found myself with some free time and an empty berth. Might I persuade you to fill it?”

At least if Megatron slagged him for the suggestion, Knock Out was already in the infirmary.

“You’re overcharged again,” Megatron said warily.

“Not overcharged,” Knock Out said, mostly truthfully, “merely… interested.”

“You are overstepping and this is entirely inappropriate, Knock Out,” Megatron said warningly.

But he still hadn't removed his servo from Knock Out's waist.

Someone was going to have to take the initiative here and it looked like it wasn't going to be Megatron. Knock Out reached up and tugged on Megatron's clavicle armour until he could bring their lips together in a chaste kiss. A low whirr of cooling fans started and then was promptly shut off.

Already? That was flattering.

“I like big mechs,” Knock Out purred. “And I can show you exactly why big mechs like me.”

Megatron's cooling fans came online again and this time he let them stay on. It broke whatever spell or moral dilemma he was under and he moved.

Knock Out was a fast car, but he couldn't say exactly how he'd ended up off the ground in Megatron’s arms and kissing like his spark depended on it. It was thrilling, how easily Megatron could manhandle him, and his cooling fans clicked on too, at a much higher pitch than Megatron's deep, powerful flight engines.

Megatron broke away slowly, lingering until the last.

“Not here.”

Knock Out had rather liked the idea of using the medical slab — it wouldn’t be the first time — but he knew that disagreeing this early on wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“My place or yours?” Knock Out asked. Then he actually thought about it, “My berth might not be big enough.”

It had been barely enough for him and Breakdown together — Starscream had flat refused to give them a bigger room when they’d first moved back onto the _Nemesis_ full time. Then things had been far too hectic for Knock Out to consider putting in a request, then Breakdown was gone and there was no way he was going to get another bigger room on his own.

They’d made do, but that wouldn’t work with someone Megatron’s size.

“Come,” said Megatron, letting Knock Out back down to the ground and taking his servo to pull him along.

Despite the number of Decepticons on the _Nemesis_ , they made it to Megatron’s quarters without meeting anyone. Either they’d gotten incredibly lucky, or Soundwave was rerouting the Vehicons through other corridors by strategically locking doors.

Knock Out decided to count that as a preemptive _thank you_.

Unsurprisingly, Megatron’s room was far bigger than Knock Out’s. A collection of blades and guns lined one wall — Knock Out recognised them as trophies taken from Autobots Megatron had defeated personally — and a large berth, more than big enough for Knock Out’s plans, sat against the opposite wall.

Knock Out hopped onto the edge of the berth, testing the metal sheet — he hadn’t taken the chance last time he’d been in the room. It was firmer than Knock Out's own berth, but not the luxury he'd been hoping for. What was the point in ruling the Decepticon empire if you weren’t going to treat yourself to the finer things in life?

Megatron joined him, reminding Knock Out why he was putting up with subpar berth materials. He curled a servo around Knock Out's back to pull him close. Knock Out took it a step further and swung a leg over Megatron’s lap, nuzzling at his throat.

“Lie back.”

Knock Out snapped his mouth shut, nearly catching his glossa. It shouldn’t be this easy to slip into a familiar role. Nothing about this felt like it had with Breakdown.

Megatron pulled Knock Out down with him. His fangs were sharp as he kissed Knock Out hard. He bit down, cutting Knock Out’s lip, as Knock Out dug his claws into the gaps between heavy armour plates. The taste of energon always made things more thrilling.

And since they were already in position and Megatron had gone along with his requests so far…

Knock Out sat up, opened his panel, and pressed his bared valve against Megatron’s chest plating. There was already a rough buzz from Megatron’s cooling fans, but Knock Out wanted _more_.

“Rev for me,” Knock Out ordered.

Megatron complied. A low growl building up from his core and vibrating against Knock Out’s spread valve. He whined and pressed down harder. Flight engines were _good_ at this.

Megatron was watching him hungrily. Surely he was going to take charge at any minute. Any second now. But Megatron didn’t roll them over or throw Knock Out down, he only thrummed his engine louder and pulled Knock Out’s thighs wider, forcing more contact.

 _Excellent_ contact.

“Mmm…” Knock Out moaned, “I want your spike. Now.”

“It has been —” if Knock Out didn’t know better he’d say Megatron looked embarrassed, “— some time since I last took a mech of your size, Knock Out. I would not wish to do you unintentional harm.”

“Have no fear, I can take anything you have to give,” Knock Out said confidently.

He hoped Megatron didn’t have any kind of augmentations. He hadn’t glanced at the relevant section of the scan last time Megatron had been on the medical slab and mechs could surprise you with this sort of thing.

Once with barbs had been enough for a lifetime.

Megatron transformed his codpiece out of the way, distracting Knock Out from his painful memories. His spike pressurised.

Knock Out tried not to show his disappointment.

Okay, it wasn't _small_ , but Knock Out had been hoping for something _proportional_ at least. Megatron was a massive mech after all.

“More?” Megatron asked.

“More?” Knock Out echoed. “I'm not sure I understand.”

Megatron rolled his optics and slid another layer of metal out around his spike.

Knock Out grinned. He'd worked on mechs with this kind of spike before, but hadn't clanged one. Yet. He eyed up the concentric circles around the base of Megatron's spike. That looked _much_ more promising.

“All of it.”

“You're sure?” Megatron was already extending more.

The design was one that allowed bigger mechs to interface with smaller ones without fear of injury. Knock Out didn’t see the point himself. Not when the layers came together to form a spike that was —

“Impressive,” Knock Out said, mouth and valve lubricating at the sight, “and within my capabilities, Lord Megatron.”

“You sound so confident,” Megatron said, amused, “Do try not to disappoint me, Knock Out.”

Knock Out was already running the standard routines to make his valve widen and lubricate properly. On second thought, he ran the lubrication subroutine again and left a pale orange smear on Megatron’s armour as he shifted down his frame.

Megatron scraped some up with his digit and licked it off lewdly. If Knock Out hadn’t wanted penetration quite so much he would’ve reversed his tracks then and there to see how good Megatron was with his glossa elsewhere.

Knock Out braced himself over Megatron’s array. His thighs weren’t long enough to properly straddle Megatron _and_ get high enough to slide directly down onto his spike. He got up on one knee, slipped the tip into his valve, and inched his way down at an angle.

 _Oh, yes_.

Knock Out had to stop before he reached the base. He was used to shorter spikes and there wasn't enough space. He sent a command to his internals to transform further out of the way — he could feel his ignition coil in his throat now — and managed to take the last twenty centimetres with a groan.

“Impressive,” rumbled Megatron, claws idly running over Knock Out's thighs. “You look good, impaled on my spike.”

“I always look good,” Knock Out said, a bit breathlessly.

 _Primus_ , it’d been a while since he’d taken anything this big. Knock Out ground down, enjoying the ache of callipers stretching beyond their limits. _This_ was why he liked big bots. Nothing beat size in the berth.

Knock Out moved before his valve was ready, hissing at the sting even as his pleasure circuitry lit up, the edge of pain only making it better.

He’d just started to hit a rhythm, then Megatron's huge servos grabbed Knock Out around the middle and _lifted_ him, heedless of his weight. Knock Out's intake stalled as Megatron brought him back down, splitting him open.

“More,” Knock Out gasped. “Don’t you want me to scream for you?”

“Oh, you will.” Megatron promised, using Knock Out like a 'facing toy.

“Prove it.” Knock Out grinned from his perch and dug sharp claws into the seams of Megatron's armour, enjoying the rough growl he got for it. “I have _very_ high standards.” He was starting to get used to the pressure, even as Megatron brought him down again. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Megatron barked a laugh. It twisted into a pleasurable moan as Knock Out rippled his callipers in a pattern that had always made Breakdown curse and whimper.

Knock Out —

Knock Out didn’t want to look at Megatron.

“I want it from behind.” Knock Out pushed Megatron's servos away and raised himself up and off.

“Demanding,” Megatron grumbled, but rolled to his knees and positioned himself behind Knock Out.

“Take me hard,” Knock Out said. “Make me feel it.”

Megatron lined up and pressed in, forcing Knock Out’s hip servos to unlock and shift wider to accommodate him. He was tall enough that Knock Out could feel hot vents on the back of his helm. Arms thicker than Knock Out’s waist were braced on the berth just below his shoulders.

There was no denying that it was Megatron clanging him. Knock Out couldn’t decide if that made him feel better or worse about the whole thing.

Megatron gave a leisurely thrust, not sinking in the whole way.

“I said, _make me feel it_ ,” Knock Out demanded, bucking back.

Megatron bit at a — thankfully unpainted — cable in the back of Knock Out’s neck and rolled his hips unhurriedly again. “Think you can handle it?”

“I can handle anything you can give.”

Megatron laughed, the sound pleasant for once, and started a ruthless pace that nearly made Knock Out regret his claim.

Nearly.

“ _Yesss_ ,” Knock Out groaned.

Megatron’s cooling fans were deafening. Knock Out’s were reaching a worrying whine, finding it difficult to snatch cold air from his surroundings. No matter, there had been one memorable time where he’d been pinned between Breakdown and the engines, and another in a desert trying to stay quiet and not give away their position. Knock Out knew there was still some time left before his systems would hit critical temperatures.

Of course, the friction was speeding things up quite a bit.

Megatron slowed and ground in deep. Knock Out shoved his hand down to rub his anterior node. Valve stimulation alone was never quite enough and the last thing he wanted right now was for Megatron to finish and take away that wonderfully thick spike before Knock Out got a chance to overload around it.

“You fit me so well. My beautiful little doctor,” rumbled Megatron, picking up the pace again.

Breakdown had always struggled with telling Knock Out how gorgeous he was, never getting beyond an awestruck _pretty_ when he was in the middle of a good ‘face.

“Taking all of me like you were sparked for it,” Megatron continued.

“What can I say? I'm perfect.”

Knock Out used his index and middle digits to feel where Megatron’s spike was pumping in and out of his valve. He was stretched obscenely.

“Just. So. _Pretty_.” Megatron punctuated each word with a fierce thrust.

A stifled sob was wrenched from Knock Out along with an overload. He clawed the berth with one servo, uncaring of the marks he gouged into the soft metal, and rubbed himself through the rest of his overload with the other.

 _Oh, yes_. Clenching on a thick spike was the _best_ way to overload.

Megatron continued, falling back into a deep, leisurely pace. Taking his time and feeling every contact point spark with the ebbing charge of Knock Out’s lingering overload.

“Another?” Megatron asked, biting at a wheel, denting the rubber with his sharp fangs.

“Think you’re good enough to overload me again?” Knock Out said. “Why not, let’s see you try.”

Even Megatron’s warning growl rumbling through Knock Out’s entire frame wasn’t enough to stop him from smirking over his shoulder at the warlord.

It wasn’t Breakdown’s level of submission, but Megatron was giving enough ground to make the pleasure centres of Knock Out’s processor kick into overdrive. Big bots who could follow orders were the best. All that power under Knock Out’s control.

Megatron shifted upright and gripped Knock Out's hips with digits long enough to wrap all the way around his pelvic span. Thumbs dug into Knock Out's aft, leaving telling scratches.

Knock Out opened his mouth to complain about his paint, only for Megatron to deliver a brutal thrust that shoved Knock Out up the berth, scraping the paint clean off his knees too. It was alright for _some_ , Knock Out thought viciously, they couldn't all be unpainted steel, two shades away from gunmetal grey.

Megatron kept up the rough pace, unfairly shifting Knock Out's mood from bad to blissed. It had been ages since he'd had a good session that wasn't just with his own servo. A few scratches might — _might_ — be worth it if Megatron kept his promise of another overload.

Knock Out's lubrication subroutine ran again, triggered by Megatron pulling out to admire him. He was _dripping_ onto the berth, leaving uncomplimentary orange streaks down his thighs.

Breakdown used to admire him like that too. Knock Out found he didn’t mind his processor making the comparison as much this time. Especially not when Megatron slid back inside with a pleased grunt, the extra lubricant and Knock Out’s loosened callipers making it easy to fill him right back up.

And the insistent edge of _too much_ made it wonderful.

“Come on, big guy, is that all you've got?”

“I think I preferred you deferential,” said Megatron, with a vigorous roll of his hips that belied his words.

Knock Out cycled his valve down. Megatron fragged him harder.

“I know what you want,” Knock Out said, “so why don’t you take it? Show me exactly what a big strong gladiator can do. Haven’t you wanted to frag a civilian build before?”

Megatron overloaded with a roar, pressing as deep as he could into Knock Out’s aching valve. If he could just keep going a bit longer, then Knock Out would be right behind him. Instead, Megatron pulled out, transfluid dripping out after him to further slick Knock Out’s thighs, and Knock Out couldn’t help the whine that escaped him too.

“So much for —”

Something big and smooth was shoved between Knock Out’s legs, pressing against his entire array. He didn’t need to glance down to recognise the thrum of Megatron’s fusion cannon powering up.

A blast from this close would damage both of them, even if it wasn’t a direct hit.

The charge in the cannon built and built, and then shifted without warning into a vicious hum that vibrated perfectly against Knock Out’s node. He overloaded with a shout and stayed pressed against the cannon until it started to hurt.

And then he left it a bit longer.

“That’s enough,” he finally gasped and Megatron obligingly moved the fusion cannon away.

Knock Out’s legs slid out from under him until he was lying fully on the berth, utterly spent. Megatron noisily collapsed next to him. There was a crackle of high voltage and Megatron grunted as he dealt with the excess cannon charge.

Knock Out stayed face down. He’d get up when he could feel his legs again.

A large, heavy hand landed on his back between his wheels, then stroked down to his aft. Knock Out purred as the motion repeated.

“Next time we should get some cuffs,” he said.

The hand stopped midway down and Knock Out tensed.

“ _Next_ time, Knock Out?”

“Forgive me, Lord Megatron,” Knock Out forced himself to shaky knees, “I didn’t mean to presume —”

“Cease your prattling.” Megatron pressed Knock Out down against the berth easily.

If he hadn’t been so recently fragged, the show of effortless strength might’ve put Knock Out in the mood again. Megatron resumed his stroking. Knock Out turned his helm to the side to find Megatron relaxed and sated. It wasn’t a look Knock Out had seen on him before.

Might as well make the most of it.

“If there were a hypothetical round two —” Knock Out paused to see if another command to shut up was incoming. Megatron continued stroking and Knock Out felt bolder. “— would bondage be on the table?”

“What would I gain from tying you up, Knock Out?” Megatron said with a smirk. “It’s not like you’re difficult to keep in one place should I so choose.”

Knock Out hadn’t considered that Megatron would take it that way. He’d forgotten again that he was forging new ground here.

“I wasn’t thinking of it being that way round,” Knock Out said.

“ _You_ want to tie _me_ up?” Megatron’s optic ridges couldn’t get higher. “This must be the worst assassination attempt I've ever witnessed — and I’ve been subjected to Starscream’s efforts.”

“Not assassination,” Knock Out said, “just interface.”

Megatron snorted.

“It wouldn’t be anything you couldn’t get out of yourself,” Knock Out added, “It’s more about the illusion of control. Play-acting, if you will.”

“Power.”

“Yes and no. Willing submission.”

Megatron’s claws tightened against Knock Out’s tyre. “I do not submit to anyone.”

Knock Out nearly sighed. This was going nowhere.

“Of course, my liege. Never mind, it was a foolish idea.”

Megatron’s warning squeeze turned into a caress again, spinning Knock Out’s right tyre gently. Knock Out should just hold his glossa and enjoy the massage being freely given.

It wasn’t as good as Breakdown, but no one was.

“What would it involve?” Megatron eventually asked. “What would your part be?”

“It depends what I’m in the mood for,” Knock Out said, “Could be as simple as hands behind your back, mouth on me until I say stop.”

“And that would be different to your wants this time, how? You asked. I fulfilled. What do restraints add?” Megatron asked.

“Aesthetic, for one,” Knock Out ignored the bloom of understanding on Megatron’s face, “And it helps emphasise a willingness to please.”

“And you like big mechs who please you,” Megatron said, definitely amused now.

“What valve mech doesn't?”

Knock Out twitched his pedes. The feeling was coming back to his legs. Another five minutes and he might be able to get back to his own room without too noticeable a limp.

“I'll consider it,” Megatron stopped stroking and shifted onto his back. “You may use my washracks.”

Knock Out couldn't hide his interest and forced his legs into compliance.

To his disappointment, there was very little decadent about the leader of the Decepticon’s private washracks. It was bigger than an individual standard spray in the communal racks, but that could be explained by Megatron being bigger than everyone else on board bar the Insecticons anyway. No fancy nozzles or expensive polishes that Knock Out would have put in if given half a chance.

Oh, well. Needs must as the Unmaker drives.

Knock Out emerged from the washracks sometime later, clean if not scratch-free. There was nothing else he could do here at any rate. He should sneak back to his own quarters, or the medbay, or anywhere else that had a good buffer.

Yet, he approached the berth, where Megatron was flat on his back, snoring. Recharge didn’t do the gladiator any favours, he was always going to be intimidating in a scuffed sort of way. Even a good polish wouldn’t help without some serious work done on his underlying bodywork.

There was no reason to stay.

It had been a good frag, nothing more. However, a part of Knock Out that he’d been repressing was feeling desperately lonely. A warm frame to share a ‘face with was different to a warm frame to share a recharge with and Knock Out hadn’t gone one without the other for a long time now.

He wasn’t really lonely, just wanting to find comfort in familiar habits.

“Lord Megatron?”

Megatron’s optics onlined sharply. He scanned for threats, fusion cannon humming ready. When he didn’t spot any would-be assassins and locked optics with Knock Out, he relaxed. Megatron yawned and, without Knock Out having to say anything, flung his arm out in invitation. Knock Out scrambled onto the berth before he could change his mind.

It took a bit of time for Knock Out to find a comfortable place tucked against Megatron’s shoulder plating. Then he had to squirm for space when Megatron’s fusion cannon laden arm folded around him, sharp claws resting possessively on Knock Out’s hip.

Knock Out listened to the cycle of Megatron’s vents slow and deepen and waited for the guilt to hit him.

Except, there wasn’t any. In fact, there was so little he nearly started feeling guilty about not feeling guilty.

_Breakdown’s gone and you’re moving on the second you find a good spike?_

Knock Out nearly laughed aloud. His processor came up with the stupidest things sometimes.

Knock Out had loved Breakdown, yes, but Knock Out also loved himself far too much to put his existence on hold forever. He could mourn — _had_ mourned — Breakdown, but that didn’t mean he would never find someone else.

Not Megatron of course — everyone knew he only had long-term optics for Prime — but someone who would treat Knock Out with every inch of worship he was due. And if he happened to have some fun and try new things in the meantime? Well, who were they to judge?

Who was _Knock Out_ to judge?

Smiling contentedly, Knock Out let his optics close and drifted into recharge.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's interested I made a visual novel adaptation of Spoon888's MegaStar [Close Quarters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13963140) fic and Transformatron's MegaStar [Turn A Blind Optic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16941060) fic. Download page here: <https://transformersvn.tumblr.com/download>


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